Asylum: How it Should Have Ended
by TheMastercLenz
Summary: A rewrite of the ending of AHS:A, starting where I think (emphasis on the fact that that's my personal, highly subjective opinion) it got a little anti-climactic.
1. Chapter 1

Kit Walker's eyes didn't leave the syringe in Dr. Arden's hand as the plunger was drawn back and liquid flooded in.

"That pink stuff," he started, his eyes wide. "That's gonna kill me?"

"Potassium chloride," Arden clarified, obviously finding the term 'pink stuff' unscientific. "I'll inject this directly into your heart muscle, which will cause the heart to stop beating. From my experience, it will take approximately two to five minutes for the oxygen in your brain to be depleted." Arden paused, studying Kit over his glasses. "And then you'll die."

Kit winced inwardly at Arden's reference to his experience with this type of situation, wondering what he was getting himself into. "But you can reverse it," he interjected quickly, "you can bring me back to life?"

Picking up another syringe, this one full of clear liquid, off the stainless steel counter, Arden continued his explanation. "This syringe contains atropine, extracted from deadly nightshade. When I need to revive you, I'll inject this," he pointed the needle in his hand at yet another syringe, "along with adrenaline into your system." Arden placed the syringe back on the counter before walking towards Kit. "These two drugs, administered within two minutes after your death, along with a sharp blow to your chest with my fist," Kit felt a soft thump against his ribcage as Arden demonstrated, "will restart the heart."

Leaning forward, Kit let out a deep breath. "I don't mind telling you, I'm scared," he admitted.

A short chuckle issued from Arden. "I'll admit, I'm feeling slightly apprehensive myself."

Kit shook his head at Arden's attempt to sound superior despite repeating his own sentiments before Arden motioned for him to lie down. Turning to his left, Kit complied, the cold of the steel beneath him seeping into his back.

"Our father, who art in heaven," he whispered rapidly as Arden drew a thick, black X over his heart, "hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is…"

"What _are_ you mumbling about?" Arden interrupted as he picked up the syringe that would kill Kit.

"That's the only prayer I can remember," Kit said, smiling weakly. "Just in case."

Arden fixed Kit with a stern gaze, and Kit nodded, urging him along. Bringing his arm, bearing the syringe, up above Kit's chest, and poising the long needle threateningly, Arden smiled briefly. "This is going to hurt."

The needle came down, plunging into the middle of the X, penetrating deep into Kit's heart. His blood pounded in his ears as he spasmed, pain spreading out from the seizing organ. The agony wound its way along his arteries, snaking through Kit's entire body. His back arched away from the table and he tried to let out a scream, but his breath was stopped as his throat, along with the rest of his body, felt like it was being ripped apart.

Kit writhed, the pain consuming him, clawing his way into his mind so that it was his entire existence. As the world around him dimmed, overtaken by anguish, Kit felt like a water boiler about to blow, pressure pushing against the inside of his skin.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Kit sat up with a start, and Arden stood back as his lungs heaved, trying to recover. Still panting for air, Kit looked around the lab. The formerly neatly placed scalpels, forceps, and various tools were on the floor, scattered. Broken glassware littered the room.

"Did it work? Did they come?" Kit gasped before his eyes fell on the two syringed of clear liquid on the floor, still unused.

Arden glared at him coldly. "We're done here."

* * *

As Sister Mary Eunice left the room, Monsignor Howard strode after her, refusing to end the discussion with his defeat. "I'm not yours. I never will be," he called after her. "I'd rather die than allow you to defile the church."

"Are you talking?" Mary Eunice asked over her shoulder. "You've suddenly grown quite tiresome."

"You'll not win," Monsignor Howard told the demon hidden inside the nun. "You couldn't even defeat Sister Mary Eunice." He raised a shaking, accusing finger. "Her purity remains alive inside, I know it."

The nun turned slowly, advancing on the Monsignor. "Don't make me reconsider my largess, Timothy."

"I will cast you out and return Mary Eunice to her state of grace."

Mary Eunice's head tilted pityingly before she grabbed the front of the Monsignor's robe. With inhuman strength, she shoved him into the tall, oaken banister behind him. Monsignor Howard groaned in pain as the intricate carving was forced into his back.

"I gave you a chance Timothy. But you've just pissed it away," Mary Eunice spat. "I'm done with you. And with your sweet nun; I'm about to devour the last morsel of her soul," she screamed into the Monsignor's face before her fury melted into anguish.

"I'm sorry Monsignor," Mary Eunice – the real Mary Eunice – sobbed, her eyes glistening with tears. "I'm tired of fighting." She gazed into the Monsignor's eyes hopefully. "I want to let go."

"Then let go of me, sister."

For a moment, confusion crossed Mary Eunice's face. Then she relaxed as she understood. Monsignor Howard nodded, confirming his intentions, and she let go of his clothes, backing up a step.

With effort, the Monsignor picked her up, flinging Mary Eunice over the railing. She plummeted the five stories, her features serene, and time seemed to slow, and finally stop, as she neared the bottom. The Monsignor peered down at the ground, bracing himself for the impact.

It was only when he became aware of his pulse racing in his ears that he realized time was still moving normally.

And yet, Mary Eunice had yet to hit the ground. Instead, she smirked. She abruptly righted herself, her feet gliding to the floor, before she fluidly walked away.

Monsignor Howard collapsed to the floor, letting out a sob like the one Mary Eunice had loosed moments ago. The demon wouldn't let Mary Eunice, or at least her body, be killed so easily, and the Monsignor wasn't strong enough to cast it out. Not on his own.

* * *

The sound of sirens in the distance grew, fading from nothing to a barely distinguishable whine, but promising to become a shrill, deafening wail. As his ears detected the first hint of the sound, Oliver Thredson's head shot up.

"Time for a refill," he said, standing and moving to the small bar across from the crackling fire.

Lana Winters kept her distance, but followed him with the small revolver. "They're here," she said, trying and failing to keep her voice from shaking, as ice cubes displaced by gin clinked against the side of the glass. "Drink up. This is your last taste of alcohol."

"Now that you're out of Briarcliff," Thredson started, turning back towards Lana, "you'll never keep that baby, will you?"

"Not a chance in hell."

"So I shouldn't expect a little Oliver to come visit every few months?"

"Oh, even if I had this thing, you'd never see him," Lana snarled, appalled at yet another attempted mind-fuck from the serial killer standing across from her. "You're gonna fry in that chair," she told Thredson, letting a little pleasure at having stopped him seep into her voice.

The sirens were getting loud now. Soon Lana and Thredson would have to raise their voices to be heard over the sound. The lights were obvious now too, bathing the room in alternating reds and blues.

"I hardly think so, Lana," Thredson murmured, still infuriatingly calm. He took a long swig of his drink and flashed a grin. "I'm clearly insane. No, I'll be institutionalized. At the very worst I'll live a long life in prison. Maybe I'll even start some therapy groups. God knows there are some disturbed individuals behind bars." He paused to finish his drink and nodded. "As for you," he focused on Lana, snapping out of his twisted planning for the future, "I have no use for you anymore. Best you should just be known as my last victim."

Thredson reached down for the open drawer and Lana pulled the trigger. A solid chunk of metal, the gun Thredson had begun to pick up, clattered to the floor as his hand automatically opened in pain. His other hand clutched at his upper arm, where crimson had begun to spread through the fabric of his suit.

"Bitch," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Prison's too good for you," Lana breathed. "Too bad that's not where you're going."

Thredson cocked his head. "I thought you were planning on exposing Briarcliff."

"Oh I am," Lana agreed. "But that'll take time. And I know exactly what they'll do with you in the meantime." Outside, loud footsteps ran up to the door and orders were barked to open up. "They're gonna hook you up to their machines and try to burn Bloody Face out of you." Lana's voice dropped to a dangerous growl as the door began to pound inwards, splintering off the hinges. "Too bad we both know that's all you are."

* * *

Before anyone nails me to the wall for this, I love American Horror Story. I really do. So please don't take this fic as disrespect. There's no way I could have come up with this much insanity and then kept topping it, over and over. That said, I found the ending of Asylum anti-climactic. And judging by the opinions of the people I know who also watch the show, that wasn't an uncommon opinion. This story is just going to be the way I personally might have preferred to see it play out. Please review if you love it or hate it. Especially if you hate it. I want to know what I'm doing right, and what I'm doing wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

The knock on the door, heavy to make it through the thick wood, echoed in the austere office. Sister Mary Eunice took one last swig of sacramental wine, straight from the bottle, before placing it under the desk. She swung her legs off the desk, moving them to where they would be if she were a good little nun, next to the wine bottle before straightening out the front of her habit.

"Come in," she called out sweetly.

The door opened a crack. One of Briarcliff's guards, Frank's replacement, poked his head in. "The police just got here. They're bringing in Dr. Thredson now. I mean-"

"That's alright, Felix. Slip of the tongue." Mary Eunice smiled thinly. "I'm sure our newest guest will be stripped of his license soon, if he hasn't already."

The guard nodded. "Would you like to supervise the transfer?" he asked.

"No," Mary Eunice, waving to dismiss Felix. "Just throw him in the hole."

"The hole? Already?"

"He's a former staff member. We can't release him into the general population. Some of our other patients might be holding a grudge." Mary Eunice leaned forward. "It's for his protection."

The guard nodded again and left, closing the door softly behind him. Sighing in frustration, Mary Eunice grabbed the carafe and took another pull of the wine. Thredson had turned out to not just be a disappointment, but an embarrassment. Personally hiring a serial killer was going to call Mary Eunice's ability to run Briarcliff into question, but she wasn't about to give up control easily.

As for Thredson, he was going to rot in the bowels of the asylum. Unless, of course, Mary Eunice found some other use for him.

* * *

Jude's hand, clenched and gnarled, flashed out, clawing for Arden's face. Before she could try again, Monsignor Howard had wrapped his arms around her, holding her still.

"She recognizes you," he said, straining to keep Jude in place. "That's probably a good sign."

"And why, exactly, are you testing that?" Arden asked, glaring at the woman practically spitting at him from the Monsignor's embrace.

"I'm not-" The Monsignor grunted as Jude elbowed him. With a screech, she darted forward, reaching for Arden's face again. Her hand whipped across his cheek, snapping Arden's head to the side and leaving four angry, red lines.

Arden reared back, his hand raised to strike Jude, when the Monsignor stepped in the way, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I know you and Sister Jude have had your disagreements."

"Is that your reason for bringing a madwoman to my office?" Arden demanded. "So we can deal with our… differences?"

"She's not herself right now. But I need her to help me regain control of Briarcliff. And I need you to help her regain control of herself."

"What makes you think I'd want to help?"

"You can't trust him," Jude hissed. "He's working for _her_."

"Do you care about Sister Mary Eunice?" the Monsignor asked.

"Of course I care," Arden replied. "Why?"

"Because there's not much left of her. Whatever has taken control of her has almost entirely consumed her. If we don't end this now…" The Monsignor trailed off. The church didn't have any teachings that dealt with this exact situation. "This may be her last chance at eternal salvation."

Arden stared at the Monsignor intently for a moment, before turning around and taking a deep breath, lost in thought. "Do you honestly believe that?" he asked slowly.

"Yes."

"Then I'll help." Facing the Monsignor again, Arden studied Jude. "I'm not sure how much I can do."

"All I ask is you try your best."

* * *

The entire day had proved utterly fruitless. Lana had been forced to spend most of it fighting tooth and nail to prevent her story from going to another, obviously male, reporter, despite the fact that she had lived it. Now her editor was trying to limit its scope.

"I've been inside, I know there's more to say," she insisted.

"More than the fact that you were kidnapped by Bloody Face?" snorted Fred Samson, the small paper's editor.

"There's the story I set out to write. All the people inside Briarcliff deserve their justice."

"Look, I get it," Samson held his hands up in placation. "My heart bleeds for those people," he said sarcastically, "but don't you think you should take it easy? With all you've been through…"

"What I've been through has shown me just how much people can suffer," Lana stated emphatically, "and if I might be able to stop that suffering, I have to try."

Shaking his head, Samson continued outlining his disapproval. "This is the story of a lifetime. I'm already doing you a huge favour letting you write it, God knows I should give it to someone who can be objective." Lana gritted her teeth, but let his words slide. "Speaking of which, in your state, I'm not sure you want to overcomplicate the story. People might be less willing to believe-"

Lana stood, cutting him off. "This story needs to be heard, every bit of it," she told him. "And if you don't have the balls to publish it, someone else will."

As she stormed out of Samson's office, she mulled over his words. He was right about how incredulous the reaction could be. She'd need proof, the word of someone whose testimony would be unquestionable.

* * *

"So?" Monsignor Howard started without a word of greeting, gently closing the door to Dr. Arden's office behind him. "How is she doing?"

"Her mental state is due to electroshock, not drugs," Arden replied. "The only treatment is time."

"Which we don't have."

"I can't do anything in the meantime except make sure she isn't subjected to electroshock therapy again," Arden shrugged.

"Where is she now?" the Monsignor asked.

"In the common room." At the Monsignor's reproachful look, Arden continued. "I kept her hidden for the night, but I couldn't keep hiding her. Mary Eunice would notice that pretty quickly, don't you think?"

Without another word, Monsignor Howard turned and strode out of the office. Minutes later he was, despite his distaste, in the midst of the asylum's residents, in the chaotic din of the common room. After a quick glance around the room, he picked out Jude, sitting alone, curled up as far into her chair as she could be, shrinking back from her situation.

"Hello, Jude," the Monsignor greeted her, and was rewarded with the briefest of glances upward. "How are we feeling today?"

Jude shook her head sadly, but awareness of the misery of the circumstances was a better sign than her barely-coherent words yesterday. At least now she appeared to be fighting her confusion.

Monsignor Howard kneeled, bringing himself to Jude's eye level. "You know we need to do something about Mary Eunice," he whispered.

Jude shook her head again. "We can't save her."

"We can, Jude. It's never too late."

"You've been corrupted by her," Jude stated matter-of-factly. "And I'm not strong enough. Look at us." She laughed harshly. "A madwoman and a fallen priest."

"We have to do something. Mary Eunice's innocence – her soul – is almost destroyed."

Looking away, Jude's brow furrowed. "That doesn't change the fact that we can't cast the devil out. But we could weaken its hold on her." Eyes wide, she looked back at the Monsignor. "And then we can send Mary Eunice to safety."

"You mean…" Monsignor Howard trailed off and Jude nodded gravely in response. "I tried. It didn't work."

"Then we need to try harder."

The Monsignor stood, considering. "Is it really the only way?" he finally asked. "I suppose we don't have time for anything else," he said, answering his own question. Holding his hand out to Jude, he continued. "Come with me. I'll hide you until we're ready."

* * *

Lana tapped her foot as the orderly bullshitted her, telling her the Monsignor was out. She'd practically been stalking him since the night before, and she knew he was currently somewhere in Briarcliff.

"If you really need to speak to someone," the orderly said, edging away, "Sister Mary Eunice should be in her office."

"I already told you, it _has_ to be Monsignor Howard," she repeated for what felt like the millionth time. There was no way she was dealing with Mary Eunice. Lana wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but the previously sweet nun had grown steadily more sadistic during Lana's imprisonment, finally culminating in the hiring of Thredson as a full-time staff member.

The orderly shrugged. "Then I can only tell you to come back some other time," he replied, but Lana's eyes had already wandered away, to the winding staircase that dominated Briarcliff's lobby, or more specifically to the man descending the stairs, Monsignor Howard.

"That's alright," she said, not even giving the orderly another glance. "Found him."

As the Monsignor continued towards the main entrance of the asylum, Lana caught up with him, trotting quickly alongside him to keep pace with his long strides. "Monsignor Howard," she addressed him, "I need to speak with Sister Jude."

"Judy's not in any shape to speak with anyone right now," he responded, giving her less consideration than she had given the orderly.

As the Monsignor reached the door, Lana stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "And when will she be able to have visitors?"

"It's hard to say."

Lana crossed her arms. "You can't keep Briarcliff's secrets forever, Monsignor."

"This isn't about secrets."

"If that's true, then why hasn't Kit Walker been released yet," Lana demanded.

Monsignor Howard frowned. "Kit Walker hasn't been a patient here since he was transferred to prison. As far as I know, he's still at large. Now, if you'll excuse me." He pushed past Lana, walking into the orange light of sunset.

After a moment, Lana followed him, heading towards her car. Halfway there she stopped and turned around. If the Monsignor didn't know Kit was still in Briarcliff, who knows how long he could end up being held there while the asylum covered up their mistakes? Lana didn't have time to wait to be allowed to see Jude. Something had to be done immediately.

* * *

Five stories above the lobby, exactly where she'd been flung to the ground a few nights ago, a scowling Sister Mary Eunice's nails tapped a staccato taboo on the banister. A reporter was the last thing she needed poking around Briarcliff right now.

She had thought Lana would be busy with writing her own story. Why did she need to drag the asylum into it? As if Mary Eunice didn't have enough problems, dealing with the embarrassment of having hired a serial killer.

With that thought, a slow smile spread across the nun's face. Maybe Thredson did have a use after all.

* * *

Hey everyone, thanks for reading! Sorry for the boring chapter this time, but I needed to set-up the madness that's soon to follow. I promise, the next chapter is where shit starts to get real :P.

Anyways, as always, please review if you're reading and have an opinion!


	3. Chapter 3

Normally there were a at least a few votive candles lit in front of the altar of Briarcliff's small chapel, but now it looked like all of them were, filling up every designated space and spilling out onto the floor, lining the entire outer wall. The light flickered, casting a convulsive, seizing shadow behind the enormous crucifix. Heedless of the odd glow, Dr. Arden stormed to the front of the chapel, where Monsignor Howard was poring over a Bible. Behind him, the former Sister Jude was decked out in her old habit, saying a Hail Mary.

"Well, isn't this a pretty picture?" Arden said, snapping both Jude and Monsignor Howard to attention. "I hope you haven't asked me here to help. I can assure you I'll be useless."

Opting to completely ignore Arden, Jude went back to her prayers.

"No one is ever useless," the Monsignor replied. "There is, in fact, something only you can help me with."

"Oh? And what's that?" Arden peered at Monsignor Howard over his glasses.

The Monsignor gestured grandly at the space surrounding them. "This chapel is the spiritual heart of Briarcliff. It is where God is strongest." He turned back to Arden. "And it is where the devil will be at his weakest. We need to perform the ceremony here, but Sister Mary Eunice won't simply come if we call her."

With a short laugh, Arden shook his head. "So you expect me to somehow lure Mary Eunice here?"

Unperturbed by Arden's doubts, Monsignor Howard's direct stare refused to falter. "I know you'll find a way." He smiled. "I have faith."

Arden turned to leave, but was stopped by Jude's voice. "Dr. Arden," she called, and quickly approached him.

"What is it now?"

"The demon will probably be too strong for us."

"Then why are you even trying?"

"To save Mary Eunice." Jude stopped, steeling herself. "You won't want to hear this, but there may be only one way to save her soul. We may need to send her to the safety of the Lord's arms."

"You mean kill her," Arden stated. He scowled and turned, ready to abandon the chapel and the insane plan.

"If we don't do this now," Jude called after him, "there won't be anything left of Mary Eunice, not in Heaven or on Earth."

* * *

Hard soles clicked against the floor, echoing down the hallway, getting louder with each step. Thredson's ears perked. These weren't the heavy steps of an orderly bringing his next meal. These were a woman's shoes.

Wondering if he could possibly have a visitor, Thredson made out the jangle of keys. He stood and walked to the door, peering through the small window.

"Bloody face," Sister Mary Eunice hissed, nearing the door to the small cell. "I can't tell you what a disappointment you've been."

"So sorry to have inconvenienced you," Thredson replied.

"No matter," Mary Eunice said, ignoring his sarcasm. "I have a way you can make it up to me."

Thredson laughed. "Why would I have any interest in helping you?"

"Because we have both the same problem." Through the thick steel door, Thredson heard the lock click as a key was inserted. "There's a tunnel that leads out of Briarcliff. Just go down the stairs at the end of the hall," Mary Eunice pointed to her right, "and they'll be on your left."

With a squeal, the door opened a crack and Mary Eunice set off in the opposite direction she'd told Thredson to go. Confused, Thredson stepped out into the hallway.

"You didn't tell me what you wanted me to do," he called after the departing nun.

"I don't have to," Mary Eunice called back.

For a moment Thredson considered catching up and strangling her, but reconsidered. With the door to his cell closed, his disappearance might go unnoticed until breakfast the next morning. Mary Eunice's disappearance, however, would be quickly noticed. His mind made up, Thredson headed in the opposite direction. If he hurried, he thought, he might be able to kill Lana and be out of the state before the inevitable manhunt started.

* * *

The tunnel door was stiff, and for a moment refused to open. Giving it a shove that took all her strength, Lana opened it just enough to sidle through, into the asylum's basement.

If she was going to get Kit out of Briarcliff, she needed to shine a light into every dark corner of the place. For that, she needed Jude's testimony.

Lana rapidly trotted down the dark hall, wanting to find Jude's cell, get her statement, and get out of the asylum as soon as possible. She hadn't planned to do this tonight, so no one knew she was back inside Briarcliff, a fact she was regretting.

Swallowing hard, Lana tried to shake her misgivings, forcing herself further into the asylum. Suddenly, heavy male footsteps boomed from down the hall, coming towards her. She froze. She couldn't afford to be found by a guard, they'd never let her legally speak with Jude after that. And guards were, by far, not the worst thing that could be approaching her.

Quickly, Lana ducked into a storage closet nearby. Keeping the door open a sliver, she watched the hallway through the slit. The footsteps grew louder as Lana's heartbeat also pounded in her ears, until both thundered. Lana bit her lip, trying to control her ragged breathing.

She flinched away from the door as the shadow down the hall grew, slowly filling up her view of the hall. He was only feet away when he strode under a light, illuminating his Briarcliff uniform.

With a sigh of relief, Lana shrank back, waiting for the guard's footsteps to recede.

* * *

The faintest hint of a smile traced Sister Mary Eunice's face as she neared her office. Thredson was still a black mark on her administrative record, but no one would hold it against her. After all, she wasn't the only one fooled by Thredson. He was an intelligent man, if an evil one. His astonishing escape would only stand testament to that.

"Sister," Dr. Arden's voice called from behind her and her smile faltered.

"What is it now?" she demanded, turning around.

"I just wanted to let you know," Arden started slowly, "That the next stage of my experiments has begun."

Sister Mary Eunice smirked. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I wanted to see how they'd function in a more… " Arden searched for right phrase. "Social setting."

Mary Eunice's jaw dropped. "You don't mean-"

"It's quite clear that you have no more use for me," he interjected, cutting her off. "Besides that, it appears that Briarcliff is about to be put under a magnifying glass, and I don't plan on being around for that."

"So, what?" Mary Eunice demanded. "You figured that as long as your plans weren't working out, you might as well destroy mine?"

"Something like that." With a small smile, Arden turned and walked briskly towards the chapel. He didn't need to check behind him to know Mary Eunice was following.

* * *

After the wide, well-lit hallways upstairs, the dim corridors of the basement were a relief to Thredson. He checked both ways, about to head straight for where the nun had told him the tunnel was, when he heard footsteps on the cold tile, and darted back through the door into the stairwell to crouch in the shadows underneath the stairs.

The footsteps resonated in the hall, getting louder as they approached. Thredson waited, breathing evenly. No one had any reason to suspect he was out of his cell, and he was well hidden.

The tread of whoever was passing was slow, casual. Whistling began to accompany the pace, _Peter and the Wolf_. They were used to the asylum, and in no hurry. Most likely a guard. They'd be a problem if they spotted Thredson, but one that was easily solved in the unlikely event they did.

The sound reached a crescendo and continued down the hall, fading as the guard went around a corner. Thredson stepped out from his hiding place to resume his escape. He walked out of the stairwell and turned right, before halting, stunned, his face inches from Lana's.

"Well, well, well," Thredson said casually, recovering from his temporary surprise. "Fancy meeting you here."

* * *

The whistling broke off as a crash came from further down the hallway. The guard jogged towards the sound of smashing glass.

"Whoever's down there," he bellowed in warning, pulling his gun from its holster, "Stop what you're doing and come out with your hands up."

More crashes sounded through the open door. The guard pointed his gun at the blackness within the small room.

"This is your last chance," he shouted. "Come out now!"

There was a pause, and he was certain whichever patient had somehow gotten out of their cell would hear reason. He was proven wrong when the sound of rummaging around recommenced seconds later.

"Alright, that's it," he said, less for the benefit of the prowler than to steel himself to continue, "I'm coming in."

Keeping the gun steady in front of him, the guard burst into the room. He stepped forward, his soles crunching on the debris scattered throughout the tiny room. At the sound, the intruder bolted to its feet, whipping around to face the guard.

"What the –" the guard began to ask, but couldn't even continue the thought.

The thing standing in front of him has the rough size and shape of a human being, but the lumps and pustules distorting its face dispelled any illusions of humanity. Its heaving breaths gave it the sound of a bull, angry and about to charge, and its eyes stared with a dull but feral madness.


	4. Chapter 4

Ahead of Sister Mary Eunice, Dr. Arden kept his brisk pace. Mary Eunice held back, letting him feel like he'd gotten away, knowing there wasn't a place for him to hide in Briarcliff. It was her domain.

Even with the small distance she'd allowed him, Arden was gone when she turned a corner. Mary Eunice paused, not sure where he had gone. The spacious lobby didn't provide many practical exits unless Arden had decided to run. The only way out that seemed plausible was the door to the chapel, which stood open a crack.

Mary Eunice frowned. Was Arden really stupid enough to think that he could claim sanctuary? Even if his soul was sufficiently clean for God to shield him, no place in Briarcliff was God's anymore. Confidently, she burst into the chapel, pushing the doors open so wide they slammed into the walls on both sides.

Her furious steps wavered, almost stumbling, as her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight. Monsignor Howard and Sister Jude glared intently at her from the altar. On the altar was an aspersorium filled with water, already blessed judging by the taste of the foul air around it, and a small bone. Jude was clutching her rosary, and Monsignor Howard held a silver aspergillum. Wrapped around his shoulders was a purple stole.

Planning to storm out of the church, Mary Eunice whirled around to see Arden pushing a thick beam of wood through the handles of the chapel door. He sprinkled it with holy water before turning back to calmly return Mary Eunice's gaze.

Mary Eunice gave a short bark of laughter. "Pathetic," she announced with a smirk. "The tainted Monsignor wants revenge for his defilement, but knows he's not strong enough. So he brings along a mental patient and a Nazi for help."

"You're the one who was trying to escape a second ago," Arden pointed out.

"Well it looks like you've got me right where you want me now," Mary Eunice replied. "So go ahead. Amuse me."

* * *

"Isn't this a lucky coincidence," Thredson said, moving forward, keeping the distance between them constant as Lana tried to back away. "I was just heading out to find you."

Rummaged in her purse, Lana focused on Thredson and prayed she didn't stumble as she walked backwards. "You're right, this is lucky," Lana stammered, false bravado throwing the thinnest façade over her fear. Finally her hand fell on cold steel in her purse and her fear melted. Her features hardened as she pulled her small revolver out of the hand bag. "A final interview would make a great addition to my story."

The gun twitched to Lana's right, indicating a door. Reluctantly, Thredson opened it and went in. Lana followed him into the asylum's boiler room. In the paltry light provided by the pilot light in the furnace, Lana kept the gun's aim steady and reached again into her purse, slung over her shoulder. She set the large tape recorder she retrieved on the ground and flicked the switch.

"Now," she said, as the reels on the tape recorder began slowly spinning, "Remember to be totally honest. This is gonna be read about worldwide."

* * *

Down the hall, the guard couldn't believe what he was seeing. Despite his uncertainty, the monster that he told himself couldn't possibly exist kept advancing.

"Stop right there!" he tried, his gun shaking.

The thing only moaned in response. It didn't sound human, but it didn't sound like an animal either. All the guard knew was that the thing was completely unnatural.

"I will shoot!" he warned again, despite his doubt that the creature could understand.

With a yell as incomprehensible as the noises the thing in front of him was making, the guard pulled the trigger. The creature's shoulder exploded, a fountain of black blood splattering against the wall behind it. It let out an inhuman howl and raced forward.

The guard pulled the trigger again, hitting the thing in its thigh. It stumbled, more blood sliding out of it, before reaching the guard, grabbing him by the neck and squeezing. Its strong hand easily shoved its long, dirty fingernails through the guard's skin, burying them deep in the guard's trachea.

Thick red blood drowned the thing's fingers and sluiced over the guard's uniform, spilling on the floor. The guard kicked in a last attempt to fight, his feet slipping in the puddles of his own blood. Effortlessly, the thing wrenched the guard to the side, flinging him like a ragdoll into an open fuse box.

Electricity flooded the guard's body, overriding every neural impulse and instantly ending his pain. Sparks shot out of the fuse box as it also died.

Darkness fell over Briarcliff.

* * *

The power failure made no difference in the chapel and the boiler room, but the common room was plunged into sudden darkness, only lit by the thin moonlight streaming through the windows. The normal din of the muttering of the patients increased in volume as whispers became shouts and shouts became screams.

As Briarcliff's patients began panicking, Kit stayed seated, wondering what was going on. Although the atmosphere was generally chaotic, the overall movement was towards the exit until three guards blocked the way.

"Alright people, calm down and sit tight," the guard in the middle said, his arms raised. "I'm sure this is just a temporary problem."

Predictably, that did nothing to placate the mob of lunatics, who barely heard the guard over their own cacophony. Some still tried to push for the door, while others turned on themselves.

Kit stood, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. "Everyone just sit still and give them a chance to figure this out," he called, hoping the patients would hear reason if it came from one of their own. This had no effect, and the push continued towards the door. Terrified, one of the guards pulled his gun, pointing it at the horde. The other two followed his lead.

* * *

Unheeding Mary Eunice's glare, Monsignor Howard turned to the crucifix that dominated the front of the chapel and tranquilly looked up at it.

"All-powerful God," he started, "pardon all the sins of your unworthy servant."

"I don't know, Monsignor," Mary Eunice interjected with a snort. "There might be too many, even for Him."

Trying to disregard the nun's jeer, the Monsignor grew louder to drown her out. "Give me constant faith and power."

"Even here He has none."

"So that, armed with the power of Your holy strength…"

"Where was that strength when I climbed on top of you?"

"I can attack this cruel evil spirit in confidence and security."

"How's that working out?" Mary Eunice asked, mocking him. "Are we feeling 'secure' yet?"

Monsignor Howard dipped a hand into the aspersorium and turned, silently, to stride towards Mary Eunice. Behind him, the voice of Sister Jude filled the hush: "sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua…"

His hand shining with holy water, the Monsignor made the sign of the cross. Although he was still a few feet back from Mary Eunice, she staggered back half a step, as if struck weakly. After that, she steeled herself, refusing to budge, even as the Monsignor moved closer.

When he was within a foot of Mary Eunice, Monsignor Howard reached out a hand, anointing her forehead with a drop of holy water. "I exorcise you, Most Unclean Spirit!"

"Aw, after all the fun we had?" Mary Eunice smirked. "Timothy, I'm hurt."

"All Spirits! Every one of you!" he called over the sound of Sister Jude's constant chanting.

Mary Eunice tilted her head to the side in an expression of mock concern. "Are you sure this still works if you just follow the script? This isn't some everyday possession by some minor league demons who can't pull it off on their own." She glowered defiantly. "This is the big one."

"In the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ," the Monsignor thundered, enraged. "Be uprooted and expelled from this Creature of God!"

Throwing back her head, Mary Eunice only laughed in response.

* * *

Despite moving in all directions, the mob of patients overwhelmingly pushed forward, into the barrels of the guards' guns. Kit's eyes grew wide. This was not going to end well unless someone stopped it. He shoved through the crowd, pressing forward through the flailing limbs.

After taking a few blows, the swell of bodies thinned, then opened in front of Kit. Stumbling out into the small no-man's land between the patients and guards, he spread his arms wide, trying to encompass the crowd and hold them back.

"Please!" he yelled desperately, barely able to hear himself over the mad shrieks of the horde. "Everyone needs to calm down now!"

All the guards saw was one of the lunatics clawing his way forward, extend his arms outwards and start screaming incoherently at them. His gun shaking, the guard in the centre pulled the trigger at what he saw as the most severe threat. Blood burst out of Kit in a small splash that splattered against the faces of the nearest two patients. The sound echoed through the small space, silencing every other noise, and every patient looked up, their faces a mirror of Kit's shock and pain.

Agony flooded to Kit's shoulder, where the bullet had grazed him. His hand immediately went to the spot, clutching it. At the same time, it felt like every nerve in his body migrated there, so that his entire capacity for pain was clustered around his open wound.

In hot tendrils, the pain spread outwards, snaking through his whole body. Kit doubled over with a groan, wondering how this shallow gash could hurt so much. As the ache throbbed though his heart, he realized he had felt this before. It had started the same way, at one locus, before spreading out until he couldn't imagine anything but blind agony.

But this couldn't be the same. When that had happened, he had been in Dr. Arden's lab, his heart stopped by poison. Curling on the floor, Kit was sure he was dying. Maybe he had been weakened by his near-death experience, and now shock had given him a heart attack. A small wound like he had couldn't be doing this to him.

Every part of him pounded with agony, sensation pushing outwards against his skin. The feeling raced along every vein, every capillary, overwhelming him until he felt like he would explode.

And then everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

"Don't you feel the least bit guilty?" Thredson asked.

"I'm not sure why I would," Lana replied. "I didn't kill anyone."

"I shared so much of myself with you." His fists clenched, Thredson narrowed his eyes. "I trusted you."

"You don't know what it means to trust someone. Or even to have any kind of relationship with them."

"And now you're going to betray me," he continued, ignoring Lana's comment. "You're going to write about all we went through together and show it to the world. That tape you recorded will be played on television, radio, our most intimate moments will be splashed across headlines. Don't you want to leave it between us? Keep it special?"

Lana laughed at the absurdity. "Actually," she said, "there is something I really want to share with you. And I do want to keep it between us."

She reached into her purse, and, with a rattle, pulled out a small bottle.

"What's that?" Thredson asked suspiciously.

"This?" Lana held up the bottle for him to barely see in the flickering light. "This is pennyroyal. You know what that means, right?"

* * *

Opening his eyes, Kit could just barely make out the floor of the common room, despite the fact that he was laying on it. With effort, he lifted his head. Three feet around him in every direction was empty space, ringed by Braircliff's patients, their eyes wide with confusion and fear.

His shoulder still aching, but only dully, Kit stumbled to his feet. A gasp went up around him, and the first row of the crowd surrounding him tried to force their way deeper into the throng. The patients further back didn't allow it, and pushed back, propelling some of the frantic mob forward and increasing their desperation.

Ahead, Kit could see the same thing happening around the guards, whose guns were still drawn. The panicking swarm struggled with itself, the crush nearing the guards, whose faces would be ashen even if it weren't for the moonlight.

When the mob lunged forward, the guards didn't hesitate. They'd already shot once; the taboo was no longer in place. Aiming to kill, they pulled their triggers.

Against the screams and moans of the patients, the clicking of the jammed guns was lost. To the first row of lunatics, however, the guards' repeated attempts to fire and the lack of response from their weapons was obvious. As the guards' eyes widened, Briarcliff's patients remembered their sadistic treatments, their days of confinement, their beatings, all performed or aided by the guards, impossible without their firearms to maintain their authority.

With manic grins, the horde began to deliberately move towards the guards.

* * *

"…nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen," Sister Jude's chant continued. "Pater noster, qui es in caelis…"

Flicking the aspergillum through the air, its silver catching the candlelight, Monsignor Howard splattered Mary Eunice with a spray of holy water. Weakened, she shrieked as her skin sizzled and burnt where the water had touched her face, making it look as if half her face had been splashed with ink.

"Go away, Seducer!" the Monsignor commanded her. "The desert is your home! The serpent is your dwelling!"

"You will never cast me out!" Mary Eunice howled back, digging her nails into her cheek. "I'll kill her before I let you win!"

"So be it," Monsignor Howard replied coldly. "Be humiliated and cast down. For even though you have deceived men, you cannot make a mockery of God. He has prepared Hell for you and your angels."

Mary Eunice let out another screech as he finished and pried her fingers under her tainted skin, peeling it away.

* * *

"As long as you're not planning on having my child," Thredson said, regarding the bottle of pills in Lana's hand, "I suppose you may as well kill yourself. It saves me some effort."

"I'm not stupid, Oliver," Lana replied. "I'm only taking one. I'll only take another once I know whether that's worked or not."

"And if that one doesn't work?"

Lana shrugged. "Then I'll find another way. But doing this now, right in front of you?" Using her thumb to pop the cap off the bottle, Lana grinned. "It's so much more… intimate. Don't you think?"

"Listen to yourself, Lana. You're ending a life, just so that you can enjoy my pain." Angrily, Thredson added, "That's sick."

"It's a better reason than you've ever had for ending a life," Lana shot back. "Besides, this way I can treasure the memory forever," she said, nodding at the tape recorder by her feet as she brought the bottle towards her mouth.

"Don't you think there's been enough death already?" Thredson asked with a look of concern that would be convincing if it came from anyone else.

"Not yet." Lana tilted her head back just enough to get one pill out of the bottle and swallowed.

Heedless of the gun, Thredson lunged forward, enraged. Lana pulled the trigger.

* * *

The tools of their oppression ineffective, the patients of Briarcliff charged towards the guards, swarming them. The one in the middle was the first to be submerged by the mob, and was quickly brought down to the dirty tile floor. Paralyzed by the sounds of his screams, the man on his right suffered the same fate within seconds.

As blows rained down on the two guards and patients clawed at them, flinging scraps of clothing and clumps of hair and skin behind them, the third guard bolted, racing through the door out of the common room. Wading through the crazed horde, Kit followed his lead, finally staggering out into the corridor.

Doing his best to ignore the shrieks of anguish from inside the common room, Kit looked around. The guard was already far down the hall to his left, about to turn a corner. Kit was about to go the opposite direction when he saw someone else emerge ahead of the guard. Both he and the guard froze.

Whatever had just appeared looked human at first glance, but the guard's wide eyes and rigid stance made Kit look again. He wasn't sure what the thing was, but knew he had seen it before, when Lana had led him and Grace through the escape tunnel. It was one of the creatures from outside.

Kit began to back away, slowly and quietly, putting as much distance between himself and the thing as he could, hoping to go around the corner before it spotted him. He was almost there when the creature let out a sound, halfway between a howl and a moan, and darted forward. It closed the distance between itself and the guard inhumanly fast, before the guard had time to react.

There was a thump as the guard was slammed into the wall. This was followed by more, progressively wetter thuds as the creature's fist pounded again and again into the unfortunate man's stomach, finally coming up red and trailing thick ropes of gore.

Barely breathing, Kit watched, unable to tear his eyes away. Finally, movement behind the bloody scene caught his attention. Another one of the creatures had materialized, and its eyes were fixed on Kit. Trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, Kit crept further down the hallway.

The second creature slowly stalked forward, focused on Kit. As the first creature sensed its passing, its head lifted, and it sniffed the air before following the second's lead, advancing towards Kit. Panicking, Kit gave up on stealth and hurried backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The creatures let out guttural roars and broke into runs.

Suddenly, the door to the common room exploded outwards, and patients, many covered in blood, spewed into the hallway in a chaotic brawl, tearing and spitting at each other. Kit turned and ran, not wanting to see the ensuing melee.

* * *

Opening her eyes, Lana looked around the dark room. Despite the fact that she was bleary from sleep, she knew she had been awoken by a noise. She checked the time on her iPhone, sitting on the nightstand next to her bed. It read 2:27. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up, ready to investigate for the source of the disturbance.

And then she noticed the man kneeling beside her bed. The only light was from the streetlights outside Lana's window, but it was just enough to tell that he held a gun, pointed at her chest, and a large, obsolete tape recorder, covered in grime.

When he said nothing for a long moment, Lana asked, "What do you want?"

Wordlessly, he placed the tape recorder on Lana's lap and pressed play. With a stutter, the wheels of the tape recorder began slowly grinding the ribbon and years of dirt in slow circles, and the crackle and hiss of decades-old tape filled the room.

"Listen to yourself, Lana," an angry voice, warped by time but still recognizable, addressed her. "You're ending a life, just so that you can enjoy my pain. That's sick."

Lana's heart nearly stopped and ice settled into her stomach. She would never forget that voice, that conversation, no matter how long ago it had been.

"It's a better reason than you've ever had for ending a life," her own voice replied. "Besides, this way I can treasure the memory forever."

"Don't you think there's been enough death already?"

"Not yet."

The tape recorder ground to a halt. It looked like it would never play again, but Lana guessed that it had already served its purpose. She looked from it to the man next to her, still staring at her furtively.

She asked again, "What do you want?"

"Payback," he replied, "for my father."

"What?"

"You killed my father." The gun twitched towards the tape recorder. "After that conversation. After you told him you were going to kill me."

"No," Lana said, her eyes wide. "That's impossible."

* * *

One more chapter to go, guys. Let me know what you think so far!


	6. Chapter 6

Impossibly, the click of the gun as it refused to fire resonated louder than the gunshot would have. Somehow, the silence afterwards was even louder.

Lana's pulse pounded in her ears. As she clutched her useless gun tighter, her aim wavering, the dim flame from the furnace's pilot light reflected in her wide glistening eyes. She tried to fire again and again, the gun clicking in a quick staccato.

Thredson had stopped dead when he had seen Lana's finger tighten around the trigger the first time. Now, as the weapon's worthlessness became obvious, a small smile began to trace his lips, and again began to move towards Lana.

Before he completed a single step, the door burst open, splintering as it smashed into the wall. In a blur of movement, a human-shaped mass slammed into Thredson, easily shoving him to the floor before landing on top of him. With a sound of shattering glass and bone, Thredson's glasses were ground into his face and his face was ground into the stone floor.

The creature on top of Thredson raised its fist and brought it down, pounding it into the back of his skull. With a sick splash, the fist cracked through bone and into brain.

Swallowing hard, Lana crept towards the door, desperate to not draw any attention to herself.

* * *

Finishing the ritual for the second time that night, Monsignor Howard shouted, "Go away, Seducer!"

Still pulling at her face, chunks of skin and muscle tissue in her fist, Sister Mary Eunice glared at him. Sister Jude neared her, still chanting, holding out the small finger bone from the altar. Mary Eunice's eyes flicked to the bone before focusing even more intently on the Monsignor.

The force of Mary Eunice's stare suddenly became tangible, as what felt like a wall crashed into Monsignor Howard. He was pushed backwards, sliding on his heels, into a pew, where he crumpled to the floor.

The finger bone in Sister Jude's hand touched Mary Eunice's face where her skin had been pulled away to reveal muscle and tendons. With a shriek, Mary Eunice collapsed into sobs on the floor. Behind her, the candles began to go out, one by one, and darkness spread around the perimeter of the church.

Abandoning his post at the door, Dr. Arden raced to where Monsignor Howard had fallen. He knelt at his side as the Monsignor tried to struggle to his feet.

"It's time," Monsignor Howard said over Mary Eunice's sobs of despair. He pulled a small silver dagger out from his robe and handed it to Arden. "The demon has been weakened."

Arden stared at him, disbelievingly. Another piercing scream from Mary Eunice shook him out of his doubt, and he stood, steeling himself. Sister Jude still held Mary Eunice back, digging the finger bone into her face and fending off Mary Eunice's flailing hands, which scratched and clawed at her.

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Arden finally pushed himself, running forward. He grabbed Mary Eunice's hair and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. She sobbed again, tears streaming down her cheeks to drip off her chin, her mouth forming silent pleas for mercy. With wide eyes, Jude looked up at Arden and nodded sadly.

Arden brought the dagger down into Mary Eunice's carotid artery, immediately pulling it out to let the blood gush forward in thick spurts. He quickly stabbed her again in the other side of her neck before burying the knife in the trachea, trying to end her pain as quickly as possible. As he let go of her hair, she slumped forward, no longer breathing.

Blood spread out in a wide circle, sinking into the cold stone floor. Her black habit pooled around her, and the unmarred side of her face stared across the room. Arden reached forward and closed the wide, blue eyes.

* * *

Lana backed out of the room slowly. As she crossed into the hallway, she focused on the idea of escape, trying to ignore the sounds of Thredson's body being torn apart and devoured.

Keeping her breathing even, Lana turned to run, or rather feel her way towards her exit, when she was struck from the side. She screamed as she careened into the wall. A hand clamped over her mouth. Struggling, she tried to pry it away.

"Shh," Kit hushed her. "It's me."

Recognizing his voice in the darkness, Lana stopped fighting. When it was clear she understood what was happening, Kit's grip loosened and he dropped his hand.

"We have to get out of here," she whispered.

Kit nodded, and then realized Lana couldn't see him. "Let's go," he agreed, and the held hands, together racing for the tunnel.

* * *

The chapel was silent. The warm glow of the candles had receded, and the only light came from a still-lit cluster behind Monsignor Howard. Kneeling in the spreading blood, Jude held Mary Eunice's cold hand as blood invisibly seeped up the black cloth of her habit.

"I need…" she whispered, her breath shuddering. "I need some time alone with her."

"Of course, Sister," the Monsignor replied softly. Dr. Arden looked over at him, glaring. The Monsignor shook his head. "You'll have time later."

Still holding the bloody dagger, Arden stormed towards the door, lifted the wooden beam blocking them in, and stepped into the corridor. Monsignor Howard followed to find Arden pacing the width of the hall.

"There's nothing for me here, anymore," Arden observed.

"There hasn't been for a while," Monsignor Howard shot back. "Not since Jude found out about your past."

Arden gave a quick nod, but continued pacing. After a moment, Monsignor Howard outstretched a hand to him, holding out a rosary. Looking at him questioningly, Arden finally stopped.

"It might help," the Monsignor encouraged him. "I know you're not a man of faith, but after all you've seen, you must have a better understanding of the nature of God."

Slowly, Arden took the beads from Monsignor Howards's hand, and the Monsignor turned to leave.

"You're right," Arden answered, rolling the beads between his fingertips. "I do understand now." The dagger rang as it struck the floor, and Arden pulled the rosary taught between both fists and brought it over the Monsignor's head, drawing it across his neck.

Monsignor Howard gagged momentarily as he was wrenched backward. Winding the rosary beads around his hands, Arden tightened his grip. He smiled. The Monsignor wasn't even struggling, and in a minute, the man who had forced him to kill Mary Eunice would be dead.

With a sharp cry of pain, Arden let go of the beads. As they clattered to the floor, he examined his shaking hands. Twin lines of circles were burnt into his flesh. Arden looked up to see Monsignor Howard glaring at him, completely unfazed by the murder attempt.

His eyes darting from the Monsignor to the rosary beads on the floor and back, Arden's brow furrowed in confusion. His hands still felt like they were on fire from the impossible effect of the beads. And then it clicked into place.

"You…" Arden said like it was a curse. "You made me kill her, even though you were already gone."

Monsignor Howard – or the demon now controlling him – smirked. "And there's nothing you can do about it," he told Arden before turning and walking away.

Arden sank to his knees. Mary Eunice was dead, and it had accomplished nothing. His eyes wandered to the dagger covered in her blood, lying next to his knee. Slowly, he picked it up and studied it, as if he was no idea what it was. As if in a daze, he brought the point to his wrist and then buried it in his ulnar artery.

Deliberately, but calmly, Arden dragged the blade along his arm. His blood mixed with Mary Eunice's, then overwhelmed it, surging over his forearm and spilling to the floor. The blood loss was already making Arden lightheaded when the dagger came to an abrupt stop, the force of an impact resonating up the knife's length as it ran up against something metallic.

Arden dropped the dagger. It fell to the ground with a thud muffled by blood. Tranquilly, Arden dug into his own torn tissue, groping for what had halted the knife, and yanked out a thin black piece of metal.

The metal, a flat hexagon, sprouted legs and skittered away. Arden barely had time to recognize it as the bug he had found in Kit before he was blinded by white light pouring in through every window of the asylum.

As soon as the light had appeared it was gone, and Arden was plunged into darkness. Somehow he was suddenly lying down, his back against something cold. He tried to sit up, but straps across his chest kept him in place. As his eyes adjusted, he made out large, cruel black eyes above him, and long fingers holding a sharp instrument.

* * *

The light streaming in through the windows was the warm sunshine of late morning when Kit finally stirred. Lana leaned in closer as his eyes opened and he looked around in uncertainty.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You're safe. We're at the hospital, remember?" Lana prompted him. "After we got out of Briarcliff we came here. How's your shoulder feeling?"

Struggling to sit up, Kit grunted in discomfort. "Better. They've got me on enough drugs that I barely feel it. It still hurts though." He paused as bits and pieces of the events of the night before began resurfacing. "Did I dream seeing that light at Briarcliff?"

Lana shook her head. "No, I saw it too," she confirmed. "You said it was your aliens, but you were babbling by that point."

"It had to be them though," Kit nodded.

"Ever figure out why they were so interested in you?"

"I think I might've," Kit said, frowning. "It's gonna sound crazy though."

"Try me."

"Last night…" There was a pause as Kit tried to articulate his suspicions. "Last night, I think I made all the guards' guns stop working. After I got shot." As Lana's eyes widened, Kit shook his head, dismissing his theory. "What have the police said? Have you heard anything?"

"I was watching the news all night. There were a lot of witnesses. Of course they don't know what caused the light." Lana smiled at Kit. "And I doubt they'd believe it if a former mental patient told them it was aliens, even if everyone knows you're innocent now."

"What about those monsters?"

"No one said anything about them," Lana told him. "I don't think anyone who saw them survived."

"Yeah, but there's still the bodies," Kit said. "I mean, what do they think killed all those people?"

"That's the really weird part." Lana hesitated. "There were none," she finally finished.

Shocked, Kit gasped. "What?" he exclaimed. "None?"

"The police are saying they must have escaped."

"But… That's impossible! I saw..." Kit trailed off, not wanting to relive what had happened. "There was no way they were getting up and running off."

"I know," Lana nodded. "And there's blood all over Briarcliff. Someone snuck in and took photos, so everyone knows what happened there wasn't a normal riot. The police just don't want to admit that they can't explain it."

"If everyone's seen the pictures, what do they think happened?"

"They're saying…" Lana swallowed, hating what she was about to say. "That they were brought up to Heaven. That it was a miracle."

Kit blinked in surprise. "A miracle?" he repeated. "At Briarcliff?"

"I know." Bitterly, Lana smirked. "Monsignor Timothy Howard is going to come out of this with a better reputation than ever. Because of this 'miracle', he's gonna be impervious to any criticism. They'll think he's practically a saint."

The room was quiet as both Lana and Kit mulled over her words. Finally, Kit asked: "What about Thredson?"

"As you said," Lana replied, "He wasn't about to get up and run off."

"You think he's dead?"

"I hope so. He has to be." After a moment, she added, "I'm sure he's dead."

Kit nodded. "And what about…?"

Lana smiled with relief. "I just got tested. I'm not pregnant."

* * *

"That's impossible," Lana repeated with more certainty. "The pennyroyal I was talking about, on that tape," she added, pointing to the decrepit tape recorder, its bulk heavy, even through the blankets, "It did the trick. I never had Bloody Face's child, or anyone else's."

"But…" The gun wavered, its wielder unsure. "This can't be right."

"I think I would know if I had a kid." An edge crept into Lana's voice, despite the weapon pointed at her head.

"No. I know you're the one."

The familiar words jarred memories loose in Lana's mind. Squinting, she peered through the darkness. He was difficult to make out, and his face – his whole head – was misshapen, as if it had been broken in many places before being put back together by someone who didn't quite know how a human face should look, but Lana felt a sudden flash of recognition.

"Oliver?" she gasped.

* * *

DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!

Hi everyone! Thanks to anyone who actually read this whole, unnecessary thing.

One of the things I love about this site, and fanfic in general, is that it's all about the love of writing for writing's sake, so I feel guilty about turning this into an ad for a second. However, as someone who has somehow gotten an original work published, and who wants to turn this from a hobby into a career, I have to, ironically, be super shameless.

*sigh* Here goes. Imagine this being said in the perkiest sounding voice you possibly can:

If you enjoyed my writing, please check out my debut short story Approaching One (at www . tinyurl dotcom slash ApproachingOne*). And if you enjoy that one, you can also follow me on twitter ( SeaLenz), where I'll hopefully announce new stories when (more like if) I sell them.

*Sorry for the mess, this site seems unhappy with links. Take the spaces out and translate the dotcom and slash as appropriate.


End file.
